


In the Dark of the Morn'

by CoverFireGoddess880 (orphan_account)



Series: King's Cradle [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Emotionally Repressed, Forced Pregnancy, Heavy Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Sex in later chapters, Threats of Violence, Unresolved Sexual Tension, rating will increase later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-13 06:31:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14743733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/CoverFireGoddess880
Summary: Sometimes becoming lost... is the only way to find yourself. Even if it's over and over again.(Part 2 of "When Dawn Fades to Dusk") It is highly recommended you read the first part to truly understand the whole story!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, at this point in the series, it'll be more episodic, as in, every chapter will showcase a different aspect of how Noctis deals with the aftermath of his ordeal leading up to... well, I'm not gonna spoil it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

Every time those seagulls flew by, squawking and wheeling across the width of the big picture window, he found himself sleepily gazing out into the crystal-clear blue of the ocean waves. Bright and high in the sky, the sun made the deep expanse of the Cygillan Sea sparkle like shattered glass, and through the sheer curtains, a family of ospreys busied themselves in preparing a nest upon a lonely pillar in the middle of that beautiful, sapphire blanket.

 Altissia had always been a gorgeous place, full of people. But now, he just wanted to be alone. He wished to be shut off from the rest of the world, hiding until he was the only human left in existence. He thought it perhaps best that they leave the comfort of home for the Walls of Water, but given the choice now in his current state, he’d have opted for being chained to the throne.

 He despised how hellaciously bright it was in this city. He thought that once they left Lucis, he’d feel better, more free and unburdened. But no. No matter how far he travelled, his troubles always seemed to nip at his heels and drag him down with them.

 His disfigured left hand caresses his swollen belly as the door to his room is opened. But he doesn’t turn to look. He sighs softly as the approaching heavy footsteps stop and kneel beside his chair, a large hand covering his.

 “Hi, baby,” Gladio greets him lovingly, rubbing his thumb over Noctis’s broken finger. He isn’t surprised when Noctis retreats from his touch; still, it makes him feel cold inside. “You enjoyin’ the view? Camelia was pretty nice to let us stay in her estate. And I use ‘nice’ loosely.”

 Noctis fidgets slightly when Gladio chuckles, lips forming a tight line. “Guess so…” Then he shivers, breath shuddering.

 Gladio notices immediately and shrugs his fleece cardigan off, draping it across his lover’s shoulders. “You hungry? Iris is makin’ some barramundi for lunch and I know how much you love that,” he says with a warm grin, trying to get some kind of ruse out of him. He knows better than anyone how bad Noctis had been feeling over the last seven months, and with good reason. Maybe he just didn’t know how bad it had gotten since he found out.

 Noctis thinks for a moment, eyes on his belly. Then lifts his gaze and returns to staring out the window. “Not really.”

 It was worse than the shield could have ever imagined.

 He’s still waiting for those beautiful blue eyes to look at him, but he won’t push it. “Can I get you anything, baby?” He goes to take Noctis’s hand, but it’s pulled away from him again. “Maybe some tea? Juice? Water?”

 “No…”

 “Some chocolate milk?”

 The king shifts his feet, warm and cozy in Gladio’s sleep booties. “Don’t want any,” he replies blankly, his tone definitely lacking its Noctis-esque attribute. It sounds more like someone who’s been drowning, throat raw from coughing and choking.

 Gladio just thinks it’s from too much sleep. It  _ was _ almost two in the afternoon. “Doctor said it’d be good to drink somethin’ before taking the medicine,” he says, brandishing a syringe and vial; the sight of which makes Noctis cringe and groan.

 “Doesn’t help any,” Noctis says. “Still makes me puke.”

 Gladio fills the syringe, vial upside down. He twists and pulls the plunger, halting the little black tip at 5mm within a tube of pinkish white liquid. “No, baby, it’s not the medicine. You’ve been nauseous this whole pregnancy, remember?” He tugs the collar of Noctis’s worn, black nightshirt off his shoulder and rubs the injection site with an alcohol swab, causing Noctis to shudder. “Have you been having those pains in your belly still?”

 Noctis nods, eyes closed. “Every time the baby kicks,” and he says it like Gladio should already know this. Which he does, but he wouldn’t blame Noctis for the way he spoke to him.

 “Well, he did say they were only temporary…” He holds Noctis’s arm firmly and steadies the syringe. “You’ve been through a lot, Noct…” He’s suddenly quiet then.

 “‘Temporary’,” Noctis repeats scornfully. “And how long ago was that?”

 “Hold still, sweets,” he says, and sticks him with the needle.

 Noctis sucks his teeth in pain as the liquid shoots through his bloodstream, feeling like fire running inside his veins, his right hand gripping for the armrest while his left weakly clenches atop his belly. It feels like forever until Gladio withdraws the needle and asks Noctis to hold the gauze over the spot, leaving a bandage in its place.

 Gladio clears his throat and makes sure it’s quiet enough so as not to disturb the silence in the room. “You okay, baby?” He asks, touching Noctis’s belly.

 Noctis says nothing as the numbness starts to take effect and he feels nauseous again, hand coming up to his mouth. He pushes Gladio’s hand away when he asks if he can help. But he ends up only gagging a little, the nausea settling down inside his stomach much to the king’s enormous displeasure.

 Gladio kisses his cheek and then moves in front of Noctis, splaying his palms over his thighs. But Noctis turns away, still refusing to meet his eye. “Hey,” he says sweetly, gently kneading Noctis’s soft legs. “Hey. Look at me, huh?” He reaches up and tries to guide his face toward him. “Noct.”

 Noctis ignores him and yanks away, sighing in annoyance, so Gladio gives up for a while.

 After a brief, unsteady silence, Noctis speaks. “I hate being here,” he mumbles, pushing Gladio’s hand off his thigh. “I wanna go home…”

 “But, Noct,” he laughs, leaning over Noctis’s legs. “You wanted to come here!”

 “Am I not allowed to change my mind?”

 “You’re allowed to do anything you please, baby.”

 Noctis is amazed and yet completely irritated by Gladio’s patience with him. His lack of negative emotions seems so alarmingly… fake, like he’s holding anger or some other hostile feeling by the reins, leading it just to the very edge before he’s about to let go and explode. It’s vexing, and if it were any other kind of act Gladio was pulling, Noctis would know exactly how to respond. But with how unstable his own mind and heart are right now, he can’t bring it up. He doesn’t want to go that deep yet when he is already so stuck within himself.

 Nothing feels familiar to him. And speaking to Gladio, he feels like he’s talking with a total stranger.

 Everything feels like it’s his fault.

 Gladio watches every little movement of his lover’s face, studying him, trying to figure out what he’s thinking just from the dull twinkle in his sapphires. Well, dull is mostly an understatement. Since Noctis returned home, it was like the life and spirit had just gone out of those eyes, and now they were dark and unexpressive; seemingly, almost inviting the shadow of death. But, he doesn’t understand why.

 Noctis cards a hand through his bed hair, but pulls out when he feels how greasy it is and scowls. “Gross…”

 “Want me to help you shower, baby?” Gladio offers upon standing. He extends his hand for Noctis to take, but he backhands it.

 “No,” he says, then takes a deep breath, bracing himself for getting up. “I can bathe myself.”

 Gladio looks on with sad eyes. “You sure you don’t want me to wash your back? Or I could help you wash your undercarriage?”

 Noctis slams the armrest and glares at Gladio. “No! I can do for myself! I don’t need your help! I wanna-” He stops short and grips the armrest in the middle of pushing himself to stand, wincing at the terrible pain he’s clutching for in his belly. “Oh gods,” he gasps sharply, falling back into the chair. He takes a few breaths as his eyes fill with tears, looking down at his pregnant belly. His hands trace little, shaky circles along the sides of his belly, and he can feel the baby pressed up against his right.

 Gladio takes both of his lover’s hands and tenderly squeezes them. “Noct?” And it’s then that he smiles as Noctis finally looks into his warm eyes, the glasses Noctis now wears obscuring his blues a little, but they’re no less beautiful than they were before. “Let me help you shower, alright?” He doesn’t dare say what he’s thinking. It would only make Noctis feel worse. “And while we’re in there, I’ll wash with you.”

 Noctis nods slowly and sighs with a hitch of his breath. “Gladio?” Gladio’s name is soft and almost whispered on his tongue, and it nearly kills the shield’s heart. “When we’re done, can we… go out to the docks so I can put my feet in the water?”

 Gladio’s eye catches the weakness of Noctis’s left hand as he gropes at his heavy belly, the way his ring finger sits there all limp and bendy. His smile transcends the beginning of a frown when Noctis’s framed sapphires stare at him so innocently. “Sure we can,” he says, the steady lines of aging making his grin seem even deeper. “If that’s what you wanna do, baby…” He gives him his hand again and Noctis takes it this time as Gladio helps him to his feet.

 “And maybe get some ice cream, too?”

 Gladio kisses his cheek once more, leading him to the bath. “Whatever His Majesty wishes.”

 Noctis still feels slightly put off.

 

 >>>>>

 

 “Noct, you sure you should be out here?” Gladio asks, shielding his eyes from the beating heat of the sun. It was, after all, midday, and for Noctis to be out in it as heavily pregnant as he was troubled Gladio. 

 But Noctis ignored his worry, reaching a hand back for him. “It’s fine, just… help me,” he says, waddling along the pier. The fleety breeze gives at least some relief from the blazing afternoon as Noctis bends at his knees to sit on the edge of the pier. “Beautiful today, hm?”

 “Sure is,” Gladio agrees faintly, encumbered by all the concerns running amok in his mind. “Boots off?”

 “Yeah…”

 Gladio carefully pries a boot off of Noctis’s swollen ankle, receiving a disgruntled hiss at the motion. He turns his attention to the next one and tenderly massages his other ankle before setting them both in the cool, crisp water.

 He smiles. The breath Noctis lets out as his feet twirl in the water is relaxed and soothing to his nerves. He sits beside him and wraps an arm across his shoulders, reliving their carefree days out in the wilderness all those years ago.

 “You remember when we used to do this, back at the Vesperpool?”

 Noctis leans on his shoulder and nuzzles into him, hand on his belly. “I do… and I can still remember when I could cast a line without throwing out my back.” Noctis’s happiness shoots to the moon when Gladio chuckles in reminiscence, but the pain in his belly drags him back down to reality as the baby shifts and rolls around. He takes it as a sign to stay quiet.

 Gladio glances down and fears the pained scrunch of his lover’s face. “Noct…”

 “I’m okay,” Noctis breathes through it, looking ahead just in time to watch Talcott cast his line out on the other pier. The boy throws him a wave. Noctis waves back, a bittersweet smile courting that sinking feeling in his heart.

 Gladio takes notice and nods at the young man, his eagerness showing in how carefully he reels in his catch. “Talcott’s taken up fishing in honor of you, y’know.”

 Noctis stares down at his feet below the water. The shadows beneath the surface appear so dark, so mysterious, bordering between a subtle peace and a silent evil. They’re quite alluring to an empty mind. “Is that so… Has he caught any big ones?”

 “Couple, but he’s yet to live up to your reputation, ‘Master Fisherman’.”

 “... I’m not  _ that  _ good - haven’t even caught the Liege of the Lake… but I doubt I’ll ever fish again anyways, so what’s the point?”

 He squeezes Noctis’s hand resting on his belly. “Don’t talk like that,” he chides softly. “You're only thirty, Noct, you’ve got a lot of years left. Who says you can’t get back into fishing?”

 Sighing, Noctis pats his baby bump. “This one.”

 “Noct, stop.”

 “Stop what? It’s true, and you know it.”

 Gladio shakes him gently, feeling the baby’s urge to bother its mother under Noctis’s palm. “It is not. Once this baby’s born, you’re gonna be your normal self. Doc said so…”

 Once again, Noctis is completely unresponsive to the loving caress of Gladio’s lips on his cheek. He doubts he’ll ever be happy again when this is all over, but he’d never tell Gladio. “I wanna go home,” he laments, gazing out into too bright of a day.

 He’s sorry they ever returned to Altissia.

 

 >>>>>

 

 What was supposed to be a two-week vacation from the toil and burden of kingly responsibilities, Noctis constantly badgered Gladio to fashion a call home for someone to come pick them up.

 It was only the fourth day, and though Iris and Talcott had both tried to convince their king to relax and unwind because it was for the good of he and the baby, Noctis had quickly grown tired and extremely agitated by the lack of demanding duties to keep his mind occupied.

 The baby was the last thing Noctis wanted to worry about, but Gladio wouldn't have it. 

 The man was more concerned for Noctis’s health more than anything now, and not even his own sister could drag him away from Noctis’s bedside as he laid down for the night. They were, after all, to be wed soon, but she saw Gladio’s eagerness more as desperation.

 A way to just barely keep Noctis’s attention all on him, instead of what needed to be done.

Noctis crawls into the bed with a groan, holding his bulging belly as he flops onto his side and tiredly pulls the covers up just barely over his baby bump. 

 Gladio whips his head instantly in Noctis’s direction from unraveling and closing the curtains, leaving them partially closed so he can focus on making Noctis feel better as he pads over toward the bed.

 “You… forgot to shut the curtains this time?”

 Gladio chuckles, amused by the curious slits of Noctis’s eyes even though he knows he’s exhausted. Discarding his pants and shirt, he climbs in beside Noctis and spoons his blubbery body. “You’re not hurt, right? How you feelin’?”

 Obviously aggravated by how constantly Gladio paws him for his well being, Noctis scoots away from his fiancee’s broad chest and clutches the sheets to his breasts. “I just asked if you forgot to close the curtains. I hate when the sun comes in at five, waking me up  in the dead of sleep.”

 “Just wanted to know,” Gladio purrs in that low, seductive voice of his, “if you were comfortable before I finished turning everything off.” Nipping at Noctis’s throat so his breath is heaving along his collarbone, Gladio lays himself almost on top of him before Noctis whines in protest and pushes on his chest.

 “Gladio, enough-!”

 “Hey. Smile.”

 Noctis’s hands are flush against him, sinking into Gladio’s finely shaped pecs. He cocks a brow and huffs. “What?”

 “I said, ‘smile’,” he pokes at his cheek, grinning widely.

 Noctis kicks him in the legs and Gladio retreats, falling back on his side of the bed. “What’s there to smile about?”

 Gladio strokes his lover’s belly, loving his curves. “Us.”

 “What do you mean?” Noctis tries to shift so his back isn’t twisted anymore

 “I mean ‘us’ as in…” He sits up and takes Noctis’s hand, kissing his knuckles. “After you have this baby, and we’re all settled with affairs of state, the Glaive, Cor’s retirement, etc… We’ll have one of our own, alright?”

 He’s heard this speech before. He appreciates how determined Gladio is to want to love a child that bursts into existence through the love of the two of them, but it’s not exactly what Noctis has in mind right after the birth.

 He cups Gladio’s face and kisses him sweetly on the lips. “We’ll think about it… okay?” He murmurs softly against his mouth, shivering as Gladio lovingly removes his glasses and nuzzles his nose.

 “But, Noct,” Gladio protests in a way that leaves such reluctant silence in the room. “I want us to have our own… I want us to be our own family. I can’t do it without you.”

 Noctis picks his glasses out of Gladio’s shaky fingers and sets them on the bedside table. Then he scoots with great effort up to the headboard and beckons his lover with a finger to lay across his lap - or what he has of one.

 Gladio kisses both of his thighs, running his hands along them until he reaches Noctis’s hips, looking up into his king’s desolate blue eyes for an answer other than the disappointment of ambiguity. “You’re gonna tell me I’m wrong, right? That I shouldn’t wish for something I can’t have?”

 “No,” Noctis responds, instinctively ignoring the self-pity mask Gladio is putting on. “I just need time, Gladio. After this baby is born, the last thing I wanna do is go through it again. I know you want a baby of our own - I do, too, it’s just… I need some time to figure things out for myself. I need time to figure  _ myself  _ out…”

 Gladio hears what he’s trying to say, but it’s making him more upset than understanding. He doesn’t want to wait any more. “You’ll have time. I’ll take care of our kid, and you can just be yourself. I’ll be a good surrogate mom,” Gladio laughs, leaning up to nudge Noctis’s breasts. But it’s highly unamusing to his significant other.

 “Gladio, that’s not gonna work. A baby is a commitment, and I’ve-”

 “I’m committed to many things, and I still have lots of time for you.”

 Noctis throws his head back and groans, holding his belly as the baby begins to wake and jab at him. “That’s not the point!! Gladio - please, don’t make this harder than it already is!”

 Giving up, Gladio leaves Noctis alone and lays down flat on the bed. Apparently, it’s gonna take a lot more than begging to get Noctis’s approval, but Gladio’s up for the task. He’s not angry so much as saddened by the events that have changed the course of their lives, and emptied Noctis of his hope for their future.

 But Noctis can’t read his mind. The way Gladio is acting all defensive and indifferent has taken all of his energy to bounce off of and reflect his opinions so he doesn’t lose his composure.

 Since he came home, it had gotten harder for Noctis to speak to or even relate to Gladio concerning decisions that could affect their lives or the entire kingdom. They’ve clashed on many fronts, and for days, Gladio would pretend nothing went on between them until Noctis apologized first, then the older man would praise his honesty by showering him with gifts, kisses and the occasional gentle, dry humping that softened Noctis’s mood to where Gladio could (somewhat unintentionally) take advantage of him.

 Noctis hadn’t realized this, and Gladio thought all he had to do was keep Noctis in a good mood in order to maintain the norm.

 By the same token, the king had become translucent. He definitely wasn’t himself and it showed in more than just the lines beneath his eyes. There were times when he’d act as the man who was born to rule, but other times, he’d reply with little more than an obligated whisper.

 In fact, he’d become so unresponsive to his duties as monarch that Ignis had taken his place so nothing would seem out of the ordinary while the king recovered and recuperated. The advisor absolutely refused to have people gossiping and spreading rumors about the king’s unfortunate mental ‘incapacity’.

 No one understood that better than Gladio though, who followed Noctis on his heels every day like his faithful guard dog. If he needed  _ anything _ , Gladio was at his side in a second and nearly put all the other servants out of a job.

 What could he say? He loved Noctis too much to part from him.

 As Noctis lies down and turns on his side away from Gladio, Gladio snakes both arms around his belly and holds him close. Sleep pours over Noctis faster than Gladio expected, but he guesses some things never change.

 He spoons his king, snuggling into his soft hair. He smells so good, and it’s here that Gladio finds himself most at ease, when he hikes his legs up against Noctis and feels the feathery pillow stuffed between his lover’s legs to alleviate his back pain.

 “I love you, Noct…” He whispers apologetically. “I love you so much… maybe too much to let you be who you need to be…” He smiles once more as Noctis lets out a soft sigh and relaxes in his lover’s safe arms.

 “‘Love you...’” Noctis sounds like he might’ve murmured this in his sleep, but Gladio couldn’t tell for sure.

 He was already fast asleep himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say... writing this part of the story is my favorite!! Noctis has so much untapped potential when he's older, and I love exploring how many places and in how many situations I can put him!

In spite of everything Noctis told himself about how good it would feel to finally get back home, it wasn’t much better here than in Altissia. He’d tricked himself into believing home was a paradise - a safe haven from all the terrors and hardships of the rest of his kingdom.

 Boy, how wrong he had been.

 The same old troubles he encountered while supposedly “relaxing” among the Walls of Water followed him all the way to Insomnia, where they slept beside him and fondled his emotions into mush.

 Noctis rarely smiled these days. His routine was less the ruling authority of a king and more a broken wayfarer waiting for the sun to rise. It didn’t help that he always needed someone around to watch over him in case he needed anything, privacy being the first privilege a king sacrifices.

 He never told anyone, but he secretly cursed his pregnancy. He hated feeling so useless, so  _ dependent  _ upon another soul for such a simple thing as reaching up for a book.

 But in his defense, this wasn’t a happy pregnancy. Everyone in the Citadel - from the lowly servants to the high officials - knew about the circumstances within which the child was conceived, and that made Noctis’s bearing of the fact even heavier.

 Enter Gladio.

 The king’s shield absolutely refused to leave his side. No matter where Noctis walked - or rather, waddled - Gladio clung to him like a baby koala to its mother and acted a bit indignantly as his crutch, both emotionally and physically.

 As newly appointed captain of the Crownsguard, Gladio had a lot of work on his plate and was often quite busy training and drilling those tasked with the protection of the future of Lucis. But if it were let on that Noctis needed someone during the day, he’d be the first to jump on it.

 Granted, Gladio was to be wed as the king’s husband, but not until after the birth, and that stirred up quite the controversy in the relentlessly stressful realm of Lucis.

 There were whispers about, and none too keen about the seat Gladio took in the king’s life.

 That evening, the two men sat quietly in the king’s study. Gladio had his nose buried in a book he’d read about a thousand times over while Noctis reclined on the sofa, absentmindedly rubbing his belly while scanning over some legal documents that required his signature.

 When Noctis yawned, Gladio peered over the cover of his book, restlessly watching how quickly his lover progressed from being tired, to completely and utterly exhausted during only an hour of paperwork.

 Sharp eyes trained on Noctis’s baby bump, Gladio resolves to wake him out of pity. “Noct,” he calls, loudly making his way over. He purposefully wants to disturb him. “Noct, wake up, baby, c’mon…”

 Noctis’s closed-eye scowl is evidence he doesn't want to bothered. He’s exhausted. “Gladio, please let me sleep…” Noctis groans, swatting him away.

 “Noct,” Gladio rubs over his face with both hands. “You’ve been working on that piece of paper for over an hour. Don’t you think it’s time to retire for the night?”

 “No,” he slurs, attempting to sit upright. Slouching slowly, he grabs up the pen that had rolled between his legs and steadies it loosely on the paper. “...I’m going to that meeting tomorrow,” he says lowly, glancing threateningly up at his shield.

 Gladio kneels beside him and swipes the pen from his lover’s fingers.

 “Give it back,” Noctis demands, reaching lazily as Gladio dangles it just out of his reach.

 “Doctor said you should rest. You’ve been working too hard for too long, Noct. Kingly duties are too pressing on your body, and at the rate you’re going, you’ll probably be too tired to give birth!” He’s about to place his hand on his belly, but Noctis growls and pushes his hand away.

 “Let me worry about that. You’ve got your own responsibilities.”

 Gladio drops the pen and slips into the tiny margin between Noctis’s back and the arm of the sofa, wrapping his arms around him. “And you’re one of them,” he whispers, lips ghosting his earlobe.

 “Am not,” Noctis argues, squirming in his huge arms. He hates when Gladio plays the cute one, cooing at him and ignoring all of the seriousness in his words like it means nothing. “I’m a king, Gladio, and I’ve got work to do. I can’t sit around and sleep all day.”

 “What do you call this then?” Gladio lets his hands roam, gently kneading Noctis’s soft, squishy flesh as he kisses softly at his neck. “Work ain’t gettin’ done by snoozin’ away.”

 Noctis struggles against him, fuming at the chuckles Gladio breathes along his throat. He pushes on Gladio’s arms, trying with all the strength he has in his lethargic limbs to escape his captive snuggles. “Gladio, stop. Get off me.”

 Hesitantly, Gladio slowly removes his arms, but continues to pepper his throat with kisses. “You listening to me?”

 Noctis is beyond frustrated now as he launches himself out of Gladio’s lap. “Gladio, stop, dammit!!” He crawls along the sofa, out of breath, pawing carefully until he puts a foot down on the floor and starts to waddle away. “If you had any sense, you’d let me work! Just because you’re gonna be my husband doesn’t mean I’m gonna be softer on you! I’m still your king!”

 Gladio turns around and stomps his feet on the floor. “Sense? We’re talking sense? Seems funny.”

 “Why?”

 Gladio’s tight lip morphs into a sly, mocking smirk. “Sense to someone who won’t take the doctor’s advice and rest to save his life.”

 Noctis’s brows furrow in anger, but his eyes droop with exhaustion. “Save my life!? The hell does that even mean!?”

 Gladio massages his temple, letting out a self-calming sigh. He’s trying to help Noctis. If only he’d understand. “I don’t wanna do this, Noct…” He walks over to Noctis and puts his hands on his shoulders. “That pain you complain of… Do you still have it?”

 Noctis has to breathe first before answering. He wants so much to tell Gladio off and throw him out, but that stubborn love he holds for Gladio in his heart is that much more resilient.

 Looking up into those copper eyes that shine so familiarly, Noctis begins to tear up. The grip in Gladio’s palms are so steady, so firm, and most of all, strong - and that strength has never waned. Gladio is his rock, his pillar that has never fallen; true, he’s suffered a few cracks and scars, but for Noctis, the older man’s pain is always worth it.

 And Noctis would be damned should he ever deny that.

 He knows Gladio is more frightfully aware of his pain and suffering than he himself should be, even through the reality that the child is not his. Noctis admires Gladio for all the care, protection and love he lavishes on him, but always is just too often.

 Slitting his eyes as a tear slips down his cheek, Noctis grabs his belly and holds on tightly as the baby kicks and that pain throbs against his spine again. “Gladio?” His voice cracks and hiccups an octave higher than usual. “I’m sorry…”

 Gladio hugs him close and gently strokes his hair to soothe him as the pain takes its course. Noctis’s huge belly is pressed into the firmness of his abs, and even through the hard jacket of his Kingsglaive uniform, he can feel how hard the baby must thrash its mother on a regular basis.

 He can’t even imagine how much pain Noctis must suffer through every waking hour.

 “No, Noct,” he says, kissing his head. “I’m sorry for taking things too far… like always. I need to be more mindful of my place.” He feels Noctis tense and grow stiff against him as the pain increases, and he’s so concerned that it’s probably hurtful for his own health. “Noct, you okay? Is it that bad?”

 Noctis exhales painfully, his labored breathing only adding to the worry twisting in Gladio’s stomach. “...Need to lay down…” Noctis groans softly as Gladio helps him back over to the sofa. He’s still clutching his belly, but his breathing is harder and quicker than a few seconds ago. “Oh gods… it hurts so bad, Gladio,” Noctis arches and buries his face inside Gladio’s chest. “It hurts…”

 “Alright, baby, it’s alright,” Gladio whispers, hands rubbing tender circles up and down his back. When his fingers trail across that mark along Noctis’s spine, Gladio internally cringes. He walks Noctis up to the sofa and helps him lie on his left side. “I’m gonna try to make your back feel better, ‘kay, baby?” He gently presses his hands into Noctis’s back, focusing on where his most painful areas are. “Lemme know if it hurts too much.”

 Noctis nods, trying to breathe evenly as he braces himself against the back of the sofa, disfigured hand cupping his belly. “Oh, Gladio, it hurts! Please…”

 “It’s not labor, is it?” Gladio asks, slowing his kneading out of worry. “You want me to call the doctor? Or I could ask for Iggy?”

 “No,” Noctis says, voice strained. “No, it’s okay… Just pain…”

 “It’s never been this bad,” Gladio muses quietly, massaging a spot that gets a mewl out of Noctis.

 Noctis stares at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. The pain is finally leaving him. “Yeah… yeah, it has. I’ve just been good at hiding it.”

 “Oh, Noct, why?” Gladio stops massaging and lays his head against Noctis’s back. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

 “And have everybody swarming over me like a child with a 24-hour fever? No thank you,” Noctis sighs, turning over onto his aching back. He offers Gladio a tiny smile, and honestly, it lights up Gladio’s entire face to see one in so long. “I like when it’s just you and me.”

 “I like it, too, but,” Gladio takes the hand Noctis has graciously extended to him and kisses it, holding it close to his chest. “I can’t always be there when you’ve got pain, Noct, so you have to let others care for you when you need it.”

 Noctis scoffs. “Doesn’t sound like the Gladio  _ I  _ know… He’s always there for me.”

 Now, he knows Noctis has to be feeling better. That teasing didn’t come out on its own. “Oh yeah? What else does this ‘Gladio’ do that I don’t?”

 “Weeeeeelllllll,” Noctis ponders loudly, playfully taking all the time he needs to think on it. Gladio crowds in close and nuzzles his nose, kissing it.

 “You stop right there,” he murmurs, kissing him on the lips as Noctis begins to laugh. The sweetness of these lips, Gladio thinks, is worth all the hell of this world.

 Noctis moans into the kiss, returning the gesture as he reaches up and tenderly fists Gladio’s long, loose hair with only his thumb, index and middle fingers. His legs open on instinct as Gladio climbs closer onto the sofa. “Gladio~...”

 Gladio sinks comfortably on his elbows, parting his lips as Noctis moans his name and leans his head back. “Love you…” Attacking his throat with bite kisses, Gladio moves in to position himself between Noctis’s legs, but Noctis turns to the side and shakes his head.

 “Gladio, no. Please, no more,” Noctis whines and pushes on his chest. Gladio obeys and pulls away, hearing and respecting the discomfort in his lover’s voice.

 Still looming over him to appear passionate, Gladio settles his knees outside of Noctis’s thighs and rests his forehead against Noctis’s. “I’m always here for you…” His whisper is deep and yet soft - in that beautiful Gladio way that breaks Noctis’s heart when he’s being completely serious and in love. “I promised, and I’m not ever leaving you.”

 Noctis entwines their hands - his right with Gladio’s left. He has to shut his eyes to keep himself from crying when he catches the gleam of his future husband’s engagement band, still wrapped snugly around his finger. “I ask for so much from you… and I don’t even deserve it…”

 “Don’t say that,” Gladio chides him softly. “You deserve the world, Noct, and if I could give it to you…”

 Noctis hugs his neck and pulls him in, rubbing his scruff against Gladio’s in so loving a meaning only the two of them could ever understand. “I know… You don’t have to say anymore, love… I know you, I love you, and I couldn’t ask for a better man to live out the rest of my life with…”

 Gladio whispers his name once more and snuggles into his breasts. Though it’s painful, Noctis lets him just for now.

 

 >>>>>

 

 Dressed finely in a suit tailored specifically for his pregnancy, Noctis rests his cheek upon his fist and slouches in his council chair at the head of the table. The meeting talks are quite mundane as of late, and Noctis can’t help feeling he’s trudging through that same rut as he listens to the old goats drone on about this policy here, or that restriction there…

 It’s only seven in the morning, and Noctis would much rather still be sleeping in his warm bed, dreaming of the days when there was nothing to worry about. Instead, as the yielding king he is, he endures the vapid meeting as it nears the precipice of boredom.

 This supposed ‘all-important meeting’ is basically old problems rehashed in a different light, and concerning all those involved, it most likely would have proven the better option to cancel the meeting and let the king rest.

 He was beginning to fall asleep, cheek nearly sliding off of his fist until someone blurts out a slight against Gladio in the most slurring of ways.

 “If those in favor of the wedding would show their faces, then perhaps we might become more accepting of the blasphemous idea of Lord Amicitia chaining himself to our precious king,” an old man nearly seventy spits out, leading the conversation by a wide margin. “...For better, or most likely, for worse.”

 The entire council falls silent and turns its eyes to watch Noctis as he straightens up as best he can, and stares at the man from whose mouth that hateful sentence was uttered.

 “‘For worse’?” Noctis repeats in a tone that borders anger. “May I ask what you mean by that, councilman?”

 “Simply stating the facts, Majesty,” he replies, raising his hands in innocence. “The people of Lucis aren’t exactly thrilled for your wedding.”

 “Lord Amicitia is not high in the popularity polls as of late, Majesty,” the youngest councilman points out, his flaming hair streaked with gray matching the faint blush on Noctis’s cheeks.

 “Indeed,” that fifty-year-old, bald man interjects as well. “And in your best interest, my liege, it would be wise to consider the growing tension among your people.”

 “Whom I love should have no bearing on how I rule,” Noctis says, leaning over the table and gripping his belly, right hand splayed atop the glass. “When did this start?”

 The bald man clears his throat, snorting. “With all due respect, my king, this dissention presented an obstacle in our plans even before you returned home. Gladiolus Amicitia has been called a scoundrel, and a leech after your own wealth.”

 “I have heard worse,” another speaks up. “But none that I shall utter before you, Your Majesty. Out of respect - of course.”

 Noctis rubs his temple, feeling a bit too warm. “I don’t understand… I have been home for seven months, when was I going to hear of this?”

 “Once you were feeling well, Majesty,” one of them replies, piping up before another could speak. “We couldn’t possibly cause you more trouble than you were capable of handling.”

 Noctis shifts uncomfortably in the chair that still seems too high and mighty for him to sit in, palming his back as his hips begin to ache. “I’m... fine,” he assures them unconvincingly, feeling very unkingly, but he tries anyway. “I want to know what’s going on. Don’t keep me out of the loop just because I am with child. I am still your king, and as such, I demand to know everything that breaches these walls!”

 No one answers him.

 Noctis looks around at all these wrinkled faces that once knew his father so well. He wonders what they really think of him, and then he doesn’t. He grows red in his cheeks again as he remembers what it was they marked him as when he first perched the throne.

 Fighting back tears, and the undeniably frustrated tone he used to use when he didn’t get his way ten years ago, he gathers his hands together above his belly and lowers his head in humility. “I am not a child.”

 One very familiar councilman hums his answer and holds his head so he peers down his nose at Noctis. “Then why must we consort with such childish behavior?”

 “Agreed. There have been talks doubting whether you are fit to rule, Noctis,” an elder man hisses, causing Noctis to pause with his mouth open. “I wonder… Are you truly worthy of your title? Can you reassure your people that the very righteous foundation upon which Lucis is built shall be upheld in a manner befitting a man of royal blood?”

 “I am my father’s son!” Noctis shouts, the crease of exhaustion on his forehead tightening as he feels Cor’s hand creep up his back to hold his shoulder. “There should be no doubt of the legitimacy of my birthright!”

 “But that of the seed you carry?”

 Noctis is flustered, and as confounded as his brows are as he looks to the man with a smirk that hugs his moustache, who keeps up the argument full throttle.

 “Perhaps you should inform the people that the child you harbor inside of you is not conceived of Lord Amicitia, but of violence. That may give them some reason to pity you…”

 Noctis leans to his right where the marshal provides his arm as support. He’s tired of all of this. He dares not show them his face now, full of wetness and the shame of being humiliated by his own council.

 He hears Cor apologize to them for the interruption, but Noctis doesn’t want him to apologize. He wants to yell - scream at them for insulting him. He’s risked so much of his time - even his life - just so he could return home alive, and lead his people.

 But these men are ungrateful. They spit and jeer at Noctis like he’s some kind of joke, not as the son of the great man and king they once revered and respected.

 Though a few of the council members are actually concerned, asking for Noctis to continue and if he’s feeling well.

 The simple answer? He’s not.

 Embarrassed on all fronts, Noctis lifts his head in spite of his humiliation, and looks them all in the eye. He notices the surprise written all over their faces at how resilient they now see their king is. “You may not respect me. You may not think of me as king. You may not even  consider me as a man, beaten down and broken beyond repair... But I remembered all of you,” his voice falters, but his gaze never does. “And in my darkest hour, when I suffered through my pain, my sorrow, and my regret… I…” He shuts his eyes and takes a shaky breath. “...I gave it all I had left in me to try to return to you - to my people, because I knew you needed someone. You needed to be lead, and I knew I wasn’t born just for the sake of dying. I was born so that I may take the Crown and carry it in my father’s stead, something I never believed I could do in all my life. Still, I doubt myself, probably more than you yourselves do… All I ask for, is your trust. Please, that is all I desire out of you…”

 By now, Noctis is exhausted and nearly out of breath as he looks up to Cor for help. His belly thumps with the movements of child, and he groans in the slightest of pain as the marshal helps him to stand and walks him toward the doors.

 He doesn’t look back.

 “Well,” the eldest man muses with great disdain once the doors close behind Noctis. “Won’t we all be better off if the king dies in childbirth…”

 

 >>>>>

 

 Noctis snuggles in closer to Gladio in bed, breathing in the peace of this evening as his arms envelop him in warmth and comfort. He knows sleep won’t come easily to him, but he’s determined to try. He always sleeps better when Gladio’s beside him.

 Kissing Noctis’s soft hair, Gladio buries his nose and sighs. “Think you might be able to sleep tonight?”

 “Don’t know,” Noctis mumbles, placing his hands on his lover’s firm, naked pecs. “This baby gives me no rest - like his father.” Noctis hears Gladio mutter something inaudible, but from how unpleasant it sounded, he immediately regrets bringing up the child’s father.

 But Gladio isn’t unforgiving. He changes the subject. “How did the meeting go? Cor told me you were practically shouting. Did somebody ruffle your feathers, Noct?”

 His laugh is disturbing to Noctis’s nerves. “It’s not funny, Gladio. They told me the people hate the idea of us being married.”

 Gladio grunts as he scoots closer, inserting a leg between Noctis’s. He’ll put a pillow in its place in a few minutes. “What’s new? They haven’t exactly been friendly since we brought you home - or, since  _ I  _ brought you home. And friendly is a nice word to use…”

 Noctis hoists himself up on his elbow, gaze switching between both of Gladio’s eyes frantically. “What do you mean they haven’t been ‘friendly’? Have they done or said something against you?”

 “It’s nothing, baby,” Gladio shrugs, but Noctis won’t take nonchalance when it comes to his future husband’s safety.

 “No. No, I want you to tell me, I can take it. I’m not a child, Gladio!”

 “Shhh!” Gladio pecks his lips. “Alright, alright, I know that, Noct. I just didn’t wanna worry you is all.”

 Noctis points and nods at his belly, insisting that he’s more capable than they all assume he is. “Worry me.”

 He is too irresistible when he’s being stubborn, and Gladio has to ignore the fact that he’s steadily growing hard. “They, uh… They threatened me. A couple times, actually, but they were nothing but empty threats.”

 Noctis’s lips form a tight line. “Threatened you?” He recounts darkly. “How?”

 “Said they wanted to do lots of things to me.”

 “Like?”

 Gladio pulls him in and nuzzles his breasts. “If I stood too close to you, they’d shoot me. If I spent too much time alone with you, they’d slice my head off. If I slept with you… they’d…”

 “They would do, what?” Noctis urges him to keep going, but he can feel Gladio’s starting to shake. “Love, what would they do to you? Did they ever try to harm you?”

 “They’d kill me in my sleep,” he says finally. “But they’ve never tried.”

 Noctis cocks his head to the side. “They wouldn’t dare - they wouldn’t even make it past the steps of the Citadel! And who’s ‘they’?”

 “Your  _ people _ ,” Gladio scoffs, implementing quotation marks with his fingers. “Don’t know who exactly, but they're out there. Cor knows about ‘em, and Iggy’s lookin’ into it.”

 “Gladio…” Noctis exhales a long sigh and snuggles back into Gladio’s hold like a suckling kitten. “This is… I can’t… No one thought to inform me?”

 “Noct,” Gladio slips a pillow between his lover’s legs and holds him tenderly, careful not to squeeze him. “You’ve got enough to focus on, alright? You leave this to us.”

 “But-”

 “Please? I want you to rest both your body…” He kisses his lips sweetly and softly, “... and your mind. This baby needs your attention more than anything right now. I want you to be a whole Noctis, not half. Can you do that for me?”

 Noctis kisses him back just as lovingly before they both settle down and Gladio pulls the covers up and over them. “I’ll try, my love. For you, I’ll try my hardest,” Noctis speaks these words almost as a promise, not quite believing what he just said has any meaning at all.


	3. Chapter 3

When Noctis awoke the next morning, he expected to roll over and latch himself onto Gladio’s back as they took some extra special time just for themselves to cuddle before the grueling day began.

 But his arms hugged air as he flopped onto the empty side of the bed.

 No Gladio.

 Sighing in discontent, Noctis lays on his back with a grunt of pain and runs his good hand through his hair. Gladio hadn’t mentioned anything about leaving so early in the morning. He’s clearly upset.

 The door to his room swings open and in walks faithful Ignis, carrying a tray full of vitamins and nutrients. “Good morning, Noct,” he greets him with a friendly smile. “How are you feeling?”

 Noctis rolls around to his side and wheezes as he sits up in bed, suddenly jerking and reaching for his lower back as the pain of childbearing engulfs him yet again. “Uh, Iggy!”

 Ignis is beside him on the bed in a moment, wrapping an arm around his king for comfort. “Breathe, Noct, easy…”

 Noctis attempts to breathe through the pain, but he’s so worn of this routine and gives in as he doubles over with a moan and grips hard at his belly. “Gods, Ignis… I don’t wanna be pregnant anymore…!”

 “I know,” he sighs sadly, placing his hand atop his king’s. He softly shushes Noctis’s whimpers until he relaxes and breathes deeply. “I’m sorry there is nothing that can be done for those pains, Noct.”

 Noctis takes his advisor’s hand and stares at it. His thoughts wander back to when he had heard Ignis was shot and laid up in the hospital. He felt responsible, but Ignis would never blame anyone for the harm that had befallen him.

 He is too good of a man for this world, and Noctis loves him for all his honesty, and steady friendship he’s leant on all these years.

 “I do thank you for all you do, Ignis. I’m… I’m grateful,” Noctis says quietly, letting a smile appear. “You work so hard - just for me.”

 Ignis squeezes, the grip of comfort in his fingers. “You are worth every second of my life, Noct.”

 Then they just sit there, basking quietly in each other’s company. It’s a bit of an uneasy silence as Noctis glances over at Ignis, those taut lips pursed in a smile that could calm all the troubles in the world. He’s smiling at nothing, Noctis notices with a nervous gulp, but…

 He seems so happy to just sit here with his king, and Noctis won’t ever be able to figure out why. Without words, Ignis is like a mute swan: peacefully beautiful, his graceful silence worth the life of a deafened man.

 “Where’s Gladio?” Noctis asks, surprised Ignis doesn’t even jump at the break in the quiet.

 “Already gone to the training hall,” he answers, grabbing the tray of food from the bedside table. “New recruits and all that… Would you like some orange juice, Noct? Freshly squeezed?”

 Noctis nods and takes the cup of juice with a quiet ‘thank you’. Holding it between both hands, he kicks his dangling legs as he looks up at his advisor curiously. “He didn’t mention anything to me about getting up so early.”

 Ignis clicks his tongue, handing Noctis a prenatal vitamin. “I suspect he wanted to get as much work done as he could before you awoke. Here, take this…”

 “Hmm… Did you see him today?” He downs the pill with a swig of orange juice, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his nightshirt. Ignis nods, sitting back down beside him, crossing his knees as Noctis scoots over to give him room.

 “I did. He asked me to care for you until he returned, and I happily obliged.” He shakes the king’s knee jokingly. “You and I haven’t spent much quality time together as of late!”

 Noctis chuckles, hand caressing his baby bump. “I know… I barely have enough time for Gladio as it is. But I miss you and Prompto pretty often.”

 “He misses you, too,” Ignis says empathetically. “And believe me, Prompto wants to come visit, but he’s a happy, little character on the other side of the city. He enjoys helping the refugees.”

 Noctis fingers his glass. “I’m glad he’s happy. Gives him a purpose other than sitting around and feeling sorry for me…”

 Ignis frowns. “Noct,” his name comes out of Ignis’s mouth like discipline.

 Shrugging, Noctis sets his glass of orange juice down and hauls himself off the bed, hand firmly supporting his lower back. “I know how you guys are. Gladio was the same way before my health started improving, and there are  _ still  _ times when he doesn’t back off and give me breathing room.”

 “I don’t see what is wrong with having sympathy for someone you love who’s facing great turmoil,” Ignis says stiffly, crossing his arms. “We care for you a great deal, Noct.”

 “I know you do,” he replies, shuffling over toward the closet. That pain is about to surface again as the baby rolls over in his belly, and he can feel it already beginning to stab his spine. He breathes out carefully, bending slightly. “I just need… some time to…” He gasps. He can’t walk any further as he nearly falls to his knees, stumbling in agony, reaching back for Ignis. “Iggy!?”

 “Noct!” The advisor rushes for his side, helping him back over to the bed. His worry skyrockets as Noctis whines loudly and buries his face inside Ignis’s jacket. “My goodness… Is the pain that intense?”

 “I just need to…” Noctis crawls over the bed whimpering, “...lie down.”

 Ignis pulls the covers up and over the king, hand resting on his belly. The child is awake and alive with more vigor and eagerness than Ignis has seen in a hamster. It almost makes him feel like smiling, until he remembers the reason the babe was conceived in the first place. “Noct… is this pain as paralyzing as always?”

 He inquires with an honest heart, but deep down, he knows Noctis won’t reveal any secrets to him he doesn’t already know. It stands to reason why Noctis seems so defensive about telling Ignis about his troubles so long as they’ve been a problem.

 Noctis was careful not to spill too much of his well-being, even to his closest friends. There’s that nudge in the back of his mind that wants to pry more than he should from his king, but such invasion would lead to mistrust - especially while Noctis is still so weak and emotionally hindered.

 The only pieces of information about Noctis’s health he’s been able to scout have been from intermittent encounters with Gladio, passing by him in the halls while on their way to their respective duties.

 Sadly, it’s not enough. And it will never be enough for Ignis. They’ve always been so close, trusting each other with everything. But something has changed - and definitely not for the better.

 “So… you have a few meetings in the throne room today,” Ignis says matter-of-factly, patting the bed encouragingly to try to get a rise out of Noctis. “Shall I help you get dressed for the occasion?”

 Noctis just stares. He reaches out and lazily fingers the zipper on the corner of Ignis’s jacket.

 “Noct?” Ignis’s voice rises with expectation, but Noctis groans at the idea.

 “I can dress myself,” he mumbles. “Don’t really want you helping me put my bra on…”

 “May I walk you there? Or perhaps - if we’re brisk - we can take a stroll in the garden before they arrive?”

 “Walk? Is that good for me? I can barely move as it is,” Noctis’s tone is borderline disinterested. He plops up on his bottom, rubbing over his belly with both hands.

 Ignis breathes a reinvigorated sigh, puffing out his chest. “Exercise is as good for you as it is for the baby; in fact, the doctor encouraged it. What do you say, Noct?”

 “Eh,” Noctis sighs longingly. “I wish Gladio were here to walk me into the throne room…”

 That would cause quite the controversy in the eyes of the kingdom, Ignis ponders, but he won’t mention a word of it to Noctis.

 

 >>>>>

 

 Noctis is quite edgy as he approaches the throne, heart beating aloud in his own head. He doesn’t want Ignis to think he’s nervous by the way his arm is shaking while entwined with his, but it’s inevitable. Strangely though, the baby must be asleep because it hasn’t moved since Noctis left his bedroom.

 Noctis takes his seat on the throne, cold, marble arms running parallel to his own as he rests them upon each side. His feet are swollen this morning, so it’s a good thing he is wearing softer, spacier shoes. The breath he intakes is unnerving, and the exhale is just as pressured as he glances to his right and sees the aging marshal, standing regally at attention.

 When he glances to his left, Ignis is just as regal in posture with one hand crossing his chest in reverence to His Majesty, and the other stiff at his side. He almost looks uncomfortable, but there is no argument.

 Noctis is uncomfortable. He shifts and shifts until his legs feel freed from his weight, but then his back subtly aches no matter what position he tries. Relenting to the fact that he probably won’t ever feel comfortable on the seat of power in all of Lucis, he sits as still as an anemone, just waiting for someone to come in.

 If there’s anything pregnancy has taught him, it’s how to be patient while unbearably restless.

 Leaning toward Noctis’s right hand side, Cor whispers, “Are you prepared to greet the district marshal of Duscae, Highness?”

 Noctis palms at his belly, disfigured hand loosely groping for the ticking pain in his middle. “Yeah,” he says, voice straining to sound confident. He wants Gladio beside him so badly right now. He can’t explain it, but he feels there’s something…  _ off _ about today.

 He can’t place it either. It feels very odd, and it’s making him stressed beyond his normal stress.

 Ignis grips his shoulder soothingly, leaning close enough to whisper, but he’s tactfully loud enough for even the guards down at the doors to hear him. “Everything alright, Majesty? You’re trembling…”

 Noctis scoots just out of his advisor’s reach, waving his hand away. “I’m fine,” he whispers sternly in response, then signals to the guards below. “Send him in.”

 The guards pull open the double, golden doors and let a man in his late thirties stride into the throne room with a mile-long grin stuck on his face.

 He bows dramatically. “Your Majesty,” he calls loudly, to which Noctis nods. “It is an honor to stand before you! I trust you are feeling well?”

 “I-I am well, thank you,” Noctis replies, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “The pleasure is all mine, marshal.”

 “Now, on matters I came to discuss…” He steps closer toward the throne, much too close that those of the royal family would consider his proximity unsafe for the monarch. He’s at the bottom of the stairs. “You did agree to the terms I proposed?”

 “Certainly,” Noctis releases in a breath of  _ un _ certainty. He leans forward so he can see the man’s face better in such dark lighting. Well… as far as he can stretch over his huge belly. “They were-” He pauses to catch his breath as the baby suddenly wakes up and jabs him in the ribs, his hand cupping the pain. “...more than acceptable.” Ignis is listening very carefully to every wince and every wheeze of pain as Noctis fidgets constantly.

 The man is all smiles. “Ah… then I trust you shall hold up your end of the bargain?”

 Cor’s eyes flicker between the man’s position and Noctis, whose face is flushed with embarrassment. “ _ My ‘ _ end of the bargain’? I’m not sure what you mean, marshal…”

 Still, the man walks a few steps higher, striding up toward Noctis. “But, of course, you  _ do  _ remember what I had asked for?”

 Noctis nods assuredly, but his brows are creased with exhaustion. “Yes, my foreign ambassador informed me of all you required. I am ready to fulfill your request and sign it into effect.”

 He sticks his hand out to receive something, like he’s being owed immediately. “Then you will allow me to procure the necessary documents?”

 “What?”

 “Why, yes! The papers stating the scandalous reason you had broken off your engagement to one Gladiolus Amicitia!”

 Noctis narrowly glances at Cor, who offers him a raised brow before the king shakes his head. “I never mentioned anything… I never said I was breaking off my engagement. Who told you this?”

 “The papers you were about to sign, Majesty, they spelled it out as clearly as anything could!” The man replies, slurring Noctis’s title in an effort to cause more confusion. He can see the king’s frustration, and wants to prod at it till it overtakes him. “And you spoke these very words yourself! Are you lying to me, Majesty?”

 Noctis looks to Ignis in a panic. “Ignis? Those papers… what- I mean, why did they…?”

 “Majesty, I can’t tell you-...”

 “King Noctis,” the man interrupts, and as nonchalantly as anyone could, brandishes a pistol and takes aim at the king. “You  _ will  _ call the wedding off, won’t you?” The guards spring into action, pulling out their own rifles and blades, trained on the man.

 “Oh, gods,” Noctis gasps and falters toward Cor, clutching his belly. “Ignis…!”

 Cor steps in to shield the king, hand clasped firmly on his katana in case the man had a notion to shoot. “Guards, seize this man!!”

 The guards crowd in close, but freeze when the marshal cocks his gun and shouts, “Touch me, and I will SHOOT him!!”

 Noctis doesn’t dare look back at the man. He’s captured by the sharp, growing pain in his abdomen and groans as he almost falls off the throne. “Iggy,” he gasps, wheezing as Ignis kneels in front of him and covers his hands with his own.

 “Noct!? Noct, are you alright? Noct, speak to me! What’s wrong?”

 Then a dozen servants and soldiers are swarming them, extending a hand to help their king. Meanwhile, the district marshal is chuckling under his breath, gun still aimed at Noctis as one of the strongest Crownsguard carries the king out of the throne room in bridal fashion.

 “I warn you, Majesty!” He shouts aloud as Noctis lets out an agonizing cry. “There are those who won’t let this happen!! We will stop this at all costs!!” The guards disarm him as he lowers his gun, tackling him down and dragging him out of the room by his arms. “Even if I’m executed for our actions, I will be killed for my service to my brethren!! No king of mine shall marry that MAN!!!”

 

 >>>>>

 

 Gladio is frantic, out of breath, and nearly keeled over in worry as he rushes through the doors to Noctis’s bedroom, shoving numerous servants out of his way to reach his beloved.

 When he finally gets to his bedside, he towers over his lover, gently petting his hair as his creased, weary amber eyes trace the medical cords Noctis is hooked up to. He’s been stripped to his nightshirt and wearing oxygen, hooked up to IV fluids, and a fetal monitor is strapped around his belly for important vitals from the baby.

 If Noctis was suffering, then the baby was as well. And Gladio could hear it: the frisky, methodical  _ beepbeepbeep  _ of the baby’s skyrocketing heart rate. But Noctis’s is even faster. As he struggles to open his eyes, he moans at the pain his baby is causing him by thrashing and pounding against its cradle.

 It’s in this moment that Gladio finally realizes how tired and weak Noctis has been for a long time, and how stupid he’d been to let Noctis trudge on this way. If anyone knew Noctis’s limit, it was Gladio.

 The nightmares, the groans of agony even while sitting completely still, the clinginess of Noctis’s personality… It all makes sense why he’d hidden so much of his pain.

 Noctis didn’t want anyone seeing him as fragile and incapable of himself. But the reality was that he was on his way to crippling himself if he continued on this route of self-torture.

_ He needs me _ , Gladio says to himself, cupping Noctis’s scruff of a cheek.  _ And I won’t let him deny it. He needs me now more than ever. _

 Noctis’s blue eyes slit with tears and crease in pain as he cries softly for Gladio. “...Gladio…!? Gladio…”

 “Noct,” Gladio trembles. “Noct, honey, what happened? What’s wrong? I love you - what’s going on?”

 Arching with a cry of raw suffering, Noctis grabs his belly as a last resort to calm his baby to no avail. “Gladio…!”

 The doctor approaches with his stethoscope and listens to the baby’s movement within Noctis's belly. “He’s a feisty one…” He tries to joke, but no one is in a humorous mood. “Blood pressure is rising… Heart rate way beyond levels of safety… Nurse! I need that epidural now!”

 Gladio turns to the doctor, face drained almost of all color. “He’s not going into labor, is he? He’s gonna be alright?”

 “It’s not labor,” the doctor answers, “but we’ve got to get this baby to calm down. “Noctis!” He holds Noctis’s hand atop his belly. “I need you to relax, alright? Deep breaths!”

 Noctis is crying as he stares into Gladio’s eyes, those blues begging for help. “Gladio, they’re gonna hurt us… They want to kill you - they’ll kill us…!”

 “No, Noct,” Gladio shushes him, voice cracking. “Baby, they won’t touch us. They won't hurt either of us - I won’t let them. I promise…” He leans his forehead tenderly on Noctis’s. “Noct… sweet baby…”

 “Gladio…” Noctis murmurs and then slips into unconsciousness.

 

 >>>>>

 

 Gladio sits by a slumbering Noctis, chin in his hand. He’s lost in all empty thoughts of what to do next. What exactly he’s not sure of, but something has got to change or give. Or else, Noctis’s suffering will consume them both.

 He sighs and takes Noctis’s hand, gently stroking it with the back of his own. He holds it tenderly, watching his peaceful face. Noctis is still so beautiful, and he doesn’t even have to try.

 He doesn’t need words to tell his heart, he knows he’s blessed.

 “I’m sorry, Gladio.”

 Gladio looks over at his sightless friend. “For what? What happened was completely out of the godsdamn blue… Who knew that bastard would pull a gun like that, at a pregnant king no less?  _ Our  _ king?”

 “I don’t know,” Ignis lets out in a huff of tiredness. “But it serves to make us all the more conscious of our surroundings, at least until this heated controversy blows over.”

 Gladio softly lays Noctis’s hand down on his baby bump. “He’s so tired, Iggy… He shouldn’t have to face this alone, but he is.”

 “He’s unwilling to ask for help,” Ignis adds as he steps closer and grasps Gladio’s shoulder. “It isn’t healthy for him, or the baby. But I feel there’s a lack of strength to do all that his duty requires of him.”

 “You’re not wrong, Iggy,” he winces when Noctis crinkles his nose while dreaming. “It’s not fair for these damn people to accuse him of disloyalty to the kingdom. It’s shameful…” His voice growls lowly, and Ignis’s grip goes still.

 “He must rest, Gladio,” he says, lifting his blank eyes to the ceiling. “There is no solace for him here. Perhaps you two should leave Insomnia for awhile, until Noctis is recovered and well enough to resume his duties. At least until he’s ready to give birth.”

 Gladio ponders for a moment. “Two weeks. Two weeks at the cape…”

 “Caem? Yes, I should think that’s very appropriate. It’s quiet, peaceful, and His Majesty spent his restful days there as well.” His hand returns to try to convince Gladio of his support. “Noctis does love the ocean… and the baby isn’t due for another three weeks.”

 It’s quiet then. Gladio thumbs his chin scruff and watches Noctis sleep for some minutes of thought in silence, but there’s a strong part of him that just wants this whole thing to be over.

 He wants to rid Noctis of all the pain he suffered through without him. He was alone for too long, and Gladio wants a chance at redemption.

 A chance to redeem those months lost to a monster he’d never even met before. Though he knew the real truth, he still believed a daemon had forced its seed upon Noctis in an effort to cause him eternal torture.

 By most accounts, it was an innocent accusation on the captain’s part.

 Ignis steps away and hangs his head in submission with his back toward his friend and his king. “Whatever you decide to do, Gladio, I support your decision one hundred percent.”

 Upon standing, Gladio makes his way to the closet and pulls out an armful of clothes. “I’ll start packing our bags…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to decide where I ultimately want this one to go... but I guess I'll figure it out as I write and rewrite :)

**Author's Note:**

> I wish older Noctis wore glasses... uuuuunnnngghhh, he's soooo handsomely adorable **
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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